


TLC

by vix_spes



Series: The Model and the Spy [4]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Bathing/Washing, Established Relationship, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-09
Updated: 2013-10-09
Packaged: 2017-12-28 22:44:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/997790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vix_spes/pseuds/vix_spes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a particularly vicious rugby match, Gwaine’s boyfriend is in dire need of some TLC and Gwaine is more than happy to provide it. Modern AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	TLC

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ronsoftie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ronsoftie/gifts).



> This was written as part of the Free for Fall swap a while ago at [merlin_love](http://merlin-love.livejournal.com)

Gwaine had had this feeling when they got up that today wasn’t going to end well and he had been absolutely right. After all, it was now 8pm and when he had envisioned his Saturday night, sitting in A&E waiting for his boyfriend to be seen by a doctor surprisingly enough hadn’t featured at all. To top it all off, if he and Leon both made it through this weekend without getting a cold then it would be a bloody miracle. They’d both had to sit around in cold, wet rugby gear covered in mud for far too long before Leon had finally been called into the treatment rooms. None of them had expected to get through today unscathed but then neither had they expected for so many of them to end up in hospital either.  
  
The grudge matches between Camelot and Mercia were legendary; they always brought in the biggest crowds and the biggest police presence. No-one knew where the trouble would kick off first; in the stands or on the pitch and that was unusual, night unheard of, for rugby. You expected it in football, but not on rugby; rugby was a hooligan’s game played by gentlemen while the opposite was true of football. For a start, the weather had been atrocious; it had been raining all week but the officials had decreed that while the pitch was somewhat muddy it was still okay to play on. Less than fifteen minutes into the first-half, the heavens had opened and by the time they got to half-time the pitch was a muddy bog. Shorts that had been pristine white at the start of the match were covered in mud and so were the players themselves. Nevertheless, by the time they went back into the changing rooms for a pep talk from their manager, the players of Camelot (known to their fans as the Knights) were buoyed by the fact that they were leading 17-3.  
  
Unfortunately for the Knights, Mercia weren’t happy with the score and emerged for the second half baying for blood. The hits were coming harder and faster than before. Unluckily for Mercia, they didn’t seem to care about the legality of the tackles; players were being sin-binned and penalties awarded left, right and centre. They couldn’t quite seem to grasp the fact that the more penalties that were awarded against them, the greater the gulf in points difference became as, despite the driving rain and appalling conditions, Lance, Camelot’s fly-half wasn’t missing a single kick.  
  
By the end of the match, the score was 41-10 to Camelot and the Mercia players didn’t seem to care about the score anymore, they just wanted to take out as many Camelot players as they could. A particularly high tackle saw Lance carried off the pitch with suspected concussion and the referees decision saw things descend into a melee. By the time the final whistle blew signalling a Camelot victory, Percival’s nose was decidedly wonky and he was favouring his left side, their Captain Arthur had a busted lip, black eye and an impressive cut across his eye that would need stitches, Gwaine’s legs were gouged from someone’s studs and his torso was feeling decidedly sore and tender while Leon was still on the floor, blood streaming from a cut near his hairline and gingerly holding his wrist having ended up at the bottom of the collapsed scrum.  
  
They’d all ended up in hospital but Leon and Gwaine had had to stay longer than everybody else with Leon having to go for an x-ray to confirm what was actually wrong with his wrist. The x-ray had confirmed that, by being at the bottom of the scrum (and how had that happened – he was a second-row), he had fractured his wrist. The doctors had set it and put it in a cast as well as stitching the cut on his temple. Leon’s face had fallen when the doctor had told him that it was best to not let his stitches get wet for a couple of days and he couldn’t get the cast wet either. That had been a bit of a blow considering that they were both covered in mud and dried blood and the aches and bruises were making themselves known. Besides, when they had finally moved in together, one of the major advantages of their flat was the fact that it had a ridiculously large bath that they could both comfortably fit into. It did give Gwaine an idea though.  
  
They stopped to pick up a takeaway pizza on the way home but as soon as they were inside, Gwaine turned on the oven and shoved it in to keep it warm before shoving Leon in the direction of the bathroom. Leon grumbled slightly but didn’t protest too much; he was still a bit dopey from the painkillers they’d given him. Normally it was Leon who was the responsible one and the same thing normally happened at the club; Leon tried to be the responsible one until the others dragged him down to their level. People had been surprised when the two of them had first started dating; Gwaine was the ultimate flirt and a bit of a playboy with a serious cast of wanderlust whereas Leon was Mr Dependable who hadn’t been in a relationship for a long time. They had fallen for each other. Hard. Gwaine had put aside his wanderlust, happy to slake it with regular holidays to far-flung destinations. Gwaine had easily slotted into Leon’s life and his friends and the two of them had settled (almost too easily) into domesticity. They had now been in a relationship for six years and living together for four.  
  
Once in the bathroom, Leon shoved his tracksuit bottoms, shorts and underwear off with one hand then leant against the sink to pull his socks off before standing up straight and watching appreciatively as Gwaine stripped himself of his own sweaty, muddy rugby gear. As though Gwaine could feel Leon’s gaze on him, he looked up, a smirk playing on his lips.  
  
“See something you like?”  
  
Leon just laughed and shook his head, used to Gwaine’s ego. “You’re going to have to help me get this shirt off; I can’t do it one-handed.”  
  
“I’m always happy to help you get naked.”  
  
Gwaine’s reply came as he sauntered across the room and started to help Leon out of his shirt. As soon as the hem had cleared Leon’s head, Gwaine leant in and kissed him. Leon’s un-plastered arm gripped Gwaine’s hip and pulled him in closer as the kiss continued. They only separated long enough for Gwaine to turn on the taps and start running a bath, tipping in a generous dose of muscle relaxant, before moving back to each other, trading leisurely kisses as hands skimmed gingerly over bruised and tender flesh. They got so engrossed in each other that the bath nearly overflowed before they could scramble to turn off the taps. Leon moved towards the full tub only to be pushed in the direction of the shower instead.  
  
It was a weird feeling, being coddled (out of character for Gwaine to offer it and equally out of character for Leon to accept it regardless of how much they loved each other) but Leon couldn’t find it in himself to protest. They showered off the worst of the dried mud and blood, Leon keeping his plaster-cast arm over his head and his head tilted back to make sure that his stitches didn’t get wet. Stepping out of the shower, they gingerly made their way across the tiled floor to the bath, slip-sliding slightly as they did so until they were sat in the hot-water, completely submerged up to their shoulders.  
  
Leon rested his cast on the edge of the bath and relaxed back against Gwaine, both of them breathing a sigh of relief as the heat seeped into their aching bodies. The warmth of the bath along with the inevitable energy slump had a soporific effect on both men as they lounged in the water. Leon’s head tipped back onto Gwaine’s shoulder and he reached backwards with his uninjured arm, tilting Gwaine’s face towards him before kissing him languorously. When they pulled apart, Gwaine kissed him on the temple and reached for a jug that Leon hadn’t seen but that he had obviously collected from the kitchen.  
  
An almost indecent groan escaped Leon’s throat as his hair was dampened carefully so as to avoid the stitches and then fingers were carding through his hair. Much to their amusement, both men found that having their hair played with was a serious turn-on and that their scalps were erogenous zones. A scalp massage had the ability to turn them into piles of goo, Gwaine in particular. Taking care that he didn’t get shampoo in the cut, Gwaine washed Leon’s hair as the older man couldn’t do it himself. The noises that Leon was making and the slight shifting of his body was torturous to Gwaine. Normally, something of this sort would lead to delicious sex, the kind that was slow and gentle. Unfortunately for Gwaine’s wakening libido, he realised that the hair-washing and subsequent scalp massage had sent Leon to sleep. He shifted slightly, trying not to wake Leon as he made himself more comfortable in the tub. He supposed that a ten-minute nap until the water got cold wouldn’t hurt. It wouldn’t take much to tempt Leon into sex when he woke up.


End file.
